An odd tingle of defensiveness and...excitementgoes through me.
“Professor,” I say in way of greeting, drawing myself up and shaking off the surprise at finding him here. “Sorry for interrupting.”
A slight movement draws my focus—his fingers tightening around the bejeweled hilt of the sword. Given the lookon his face, I could almost be convinced that he’s determining whether or not to drive that blade right through me. Could he really be that upset about our debate in class today? Maybe he hasn’t had a lot of argumentative students.
Or maybe he’s just upset that I interrupted him.
“Miss Vandermere, is it?” His tone is a mixture of sharp and disinterested.
The moment his voice tickles my ears, my magic flares again, sending sparks snapping along my fingertips before they discharge into the stone at my feet.
What the fuck?
My magic is acting odd, sharper and more rebellious than usual.
Professor D’Arques’s gaze darts down for a split second, following the flash of my sparks against the darkness surrounding us, though he says nothing as he meets my gaze again.
I’m immediately frustrated that he just witnessed me losing control, especially after our argument in class today.
Giving my fingers a quick flick, trying to dispel my magic, I narrow my eyes at him, returning his glare. “You remember me.”
There’s a slight twitch at one corner of his mouth, like he wants to frown, but he quickly wipes it away. “After our discussion, it would be hard not to.” He lifts a hand and runs it through his thick dark hair, pushing it off his forehead.
His body is coated in a thin layer of sweat, and my eyes track his muscles again despite me trying not to.
Seeing him in class today, it was impossible not to appreciate his... everything. Sharp cheekbones, impossibly dark eyes, a physique that begged me to stare.
And that was with his clotheson.
He seems to notice at the same time that he’s still unclad, though he doesn’t appear bothered. Slowly, he backs away from me, going to retrieve his tunic. A tinge of disappointment goes through me when he slips it on over his head, and the feeling is somewhat surprising. It’s been years since I was interested in anyone. Granted, this academy is full of boys who’re still playing at being men, so my disinterest isn’tthatshocking.
But Severin D’Arques is firmly out of the territory of boyhood. One look from him tells me that. And now I’m curious how old heactuallyis. One hundred? Two? With vampires, it’s almost impossible to tell.
“You’re a swordsman?” I ask as he retrieves his blade from where he placed it to put his shirt back on. We don’t need to have conversation, yet I find myself wanting to keep him here just a moment longer.
“Perhaps at one time,” he says, not meeting my gaze. “Though not anymore.”
I wait for him to explain further, but he doesn’t.
“Good night, Miss Vandermere.” He nods his head to me, and then he’s skirting around me, staying far enough away that I’m almost offended.
I remain where I am until the door into the stairwell closes and I’m left alone.
It’s time to focus on what I came here for.
When I lift my hands, I find tiny, almost imperceptible sparks zipping across my palms, tickling my skin as though I just reached into a spiderweb.
Yet again, I wonder why my magic is acting this way.
Control, Professor Azula whispers in my mind.
Control. If I want to get an invitation to join the Arcanum Collective, Imusthave control.
Which means I need to stop wondering how Professor D’Arques looks without his clothes on and start practicing with my energy sphere again.
But that’s much easier said than done, especially when my magic still feels like it’s reaching for him, even now that he’s gone.
Chapter 7
